I leaned against a lampost on the Oshawa track, feeling it’s warmth. I allowed my gaze to drift down, right down, to where my feet stood slowly rocking on the pavement.
My red Chucks, with their white rubber toes and black stripe running around the shoe, swam in the warm sun, shimmering slightly. I allowed my eyes to drift out of focus and was mildly interested to note the appearance of faint streaks of light swimming around my Chucks, swirling like wraithes. I focused on them and they faded, the pavement once again assembling itself into embedded stones and old tar. Coaxing myself to relax again, the swirls once again revealed themselves.
Many have probably observed the occasional transparent line or dot in their vision as they gazed into a solid colour, such as a bright blue sky. The transparent lines of dots can’t quite be seen, and seem to slide down away from direct view. I have always assumed these to be particles floating within the fluid inside the eyeball. They float, somewhat, and are stirred up by the movement of the eye, and so we sort of see them from time to time as we gaze at solid swathes of colour where it’s easiest to discern them.
The living pavement beneath me at that moment this morning was similar in that it could not quite be seem, but was clearly there to be observed. What was doing it? The swirling was like ribbons of dye twisting through water; orange ribbons, translucent and oddly enticing in a candy sort of way.
I blinked.
The train doors opened up before me and I shucked up off the still warm post and tilted on into the dark car.
This post was written entirely on the keyboard of an iPhone.